


Before Harry Potter

by MittyBlack394



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, F/M, M/M, Marauders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1394665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittyBlack394/pseuds/MittyBlack394
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know this chapter isn't very good.  I wrote this at least a year back, so just bear with me.  It does improve as the story carries on, so please give it a chance.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Mudblood

**Author's Note:**

> I know this chapter isn't very good. I wrote this at least a year back, so just bear with me. It does improve as the story carries on, so please give it a chance.

Lily ran back to the Gryffindor common room at top speed. Her dark red hair was flying behind her, and tears streamed from her eyes. Finally, she ran up the Grande Staircase, her heels making clip clopping noises against the priceless marble. It had been merely an hour since she had taken a stroll on the grounds of Hogwarts with her friends to celebrate the end of O.W.L. Examinations. Now, her friendship with her childhood friend had ended, and she found herself angry, and sad that it had to end.

“Lacewing Flies,” she muttered when she arrived at the end of a corridor where the portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress was located. 

“Whatever you say dear,” the Fat Lady hiccupped drunkenly, as the portrait hole swung forward. Lily anxiously wiped her tearstained face, and walked forward into the portrait hole. 

“Hey, Lily!” She heard her friend, Mary call her happily from the group of girls. Unlike most of Lily’s friends, Mary put studying first, before celebrations, so naturally, she headed straight to the common room to study, rather than talk at the lake, and so she knew nothing of the argument that ensued between the two friends that afternoon. “Are you alright, Lily?” She asked curiously, spotting her red, puffy eyes. 

“I’m fine,” she lied. “Why?” She asked curiously. 

“Well, you look like you’ve just recovered from a crying spell for one,” Mary said sardonically. 

“Fine!” Lily began, while holding back what felt like a flood of tears. “James was being a git, he started dueling with Severus, I tried to break up the fight, and he called me Mud… I mean, the you know what word,” Lily finished somewhat lamely. 

“I told you that Snape boy was a rotten egg,” Mary said shaking her head, her blue eyes closed, and her golden locks bouncing up and down according to her head movements. Just then, the portrait hole opened again to reveal James who was accompanied by Sirius, and Peter. Lily turned pointedly back to watch the flickering wisps of flames coil and uncoil in the fireplace. 

“You okay, Evans?” She heard James’s soft voice in her ear. When she didn’t answer, he took her hand, and squeezed it a bit. 

“Don’t touch me, Potter!” She yelled, wrenching her hand free of his grasp. She felt disgusted! Moments before he had been hanging her best friend upside down, and he had the nerve to touch her with his filthy hands? 

“I just wanted you to know that I would never say something like that to you,” he said even more quietly, making his voice sound soothing, and soft. She couldn’t stand it one more minute; she burst into a fresh wave of tears, which flowed down her smooth face, and into her lap. “It’s okay,” James said, taking her in his arms. Lily turned around abruptly, and slapped him across his face with a force she hadn’t thought possible. The room had gone instantly silent, and all eyes were on her. 

“I said, don’t touch me!” She shouted through clenched teeth, breathing hard from the force of the violence. 

“What?” James began, but Lily was screaming too loud for him to continue

“You selfish toerag, James Potter!” she shouted so loud, she felt her throat aching. “If you hadn’t even been over there in the first place, Severus would still be my friend, and everything would be alright, but no! You just had to go and make everything an absolute mess out of everything didn’t you?” She shouted. In the corner, she saw Sirius sniggering into his hand, staring at the dumbstruck James. “And you!” Lily began again. “You have to laugh at everything he does, encourage it, and be a part of it!” She started, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. 

“But Evans?” James rose from the chair, pacing the room and rubbing his hand against the red mark that had appeared on his face. 

“But what?” Lily snapped back at him, her arms crossed, and a scowl playing along her mouth. 

“Why don’t you get all riled up at Snivellus? Compared to him, our jokes are nothing! You know how much dark arts he knows, and he’s only fifteen!” James said a bit pleadingly, obviously looking for a sufficient excuse. 

“I don’t bloody care!” Lily shouted at him, and a few first graders who were watching the argument recoiled at the intensity in her voice. “Just because he does it, doesn’t mean that you have to do it, James!” She explained, and without saying anything else, she fled up the many flights of stairs towards the fifth year girl’s dormitories. James just stood in complete bewilderment, still rubbing the red mark on his face a bit uncomfortably. 

“Bloody hell,” a wide eyed James said, turning to Sirius as though to ask of his opinion of the completely unexpected scenario.


	2. Sobbing on a Staircase

Severus tore into the Slytherin boy’s dormitories, hardly noticing the people staring at him through the common room door as he approached his bed. Just moments ago, he had been at dinner, where he was forced to endure an hour of being congratulated by his fellow Slytherins for fully shunting out the ‘Mudblood population’. He had tried to smile his way through it, but the more he did the faker he felt, and the more he wished he could apologize to Lily. She was his only true friend after all, and she understood him. Losing her would be hell all in itself. He kept reassuring himself that she would come around eventually, and take up his offer of being his friend again, yet something also felt false in this statement. In reality, there was no guarantee that she would forgive him. That was something he could not bear to think. 

He jumped into bed, and closed the hangings around himself so that he was away from the prying eyes of others. He tore his uniform from his weed-like body with vigor as though he were attempting to rid himself of everything that had anything to do with what had happened in the last couple of hours. He was stripped naked except for his tank top and white boxer shorts. He climbed into bed shivering. It was always cold down in the dungeons, but tonight it felt exceptionally chilly. He snuggled deep into the warm blankets, hoping that the fluff of the mattress might just stifle his sorrows with a nice sleep filled with dreams of Lily Evans. But there was yet the dilemma that his head was crammed with the unhelpful thoughts of her as well. 

The door opened not very quietly to reveal Regulus Black, who was talking to Narcissa, his cousin. Severus buried his head into the pillow at the sudden noise, hoping that they wouldn’t see him, but it was hard to ignore the drawn hangings amongst the many open-draped bed frames. 

“Cissy, go back downstairs, you’re not supposed to be up here,” Regulus pleaded with his cousin. 

“I only came up to see if Severus was okay,” she said helpfully. 

“Look, Cissy. This is a boy’s dormitory! You can’t come up here!” Regulus explained to her. 

“I’m not daft, I can read the signs on the doors thank you very much!” she snapped. “Even if it is a boy’s dormitory, you shouldn’t be in her either, because you’re not in fifth year yet,” she said pompously. Regulus scoffed, but didn’t say anything. Narcissa then approached Severus’s bed, and tore back the hangings, shining light down upon its occupant. 

“Come down, Snape and appreciate the nice little celebration we’re having for you. That Mudblood Evans needed a telling off, so we’re perfectly happy to accept you into our posse. I suppose the Dark Lord won’t mind having you as a servant now will he?” Narcissa said in a would-be-nice kind of voice, except that she was saying this about Lily. 

“I don’t want to, thanks,” Snape said, into his pillow. 

“What’s the matter, Sevvy?” She asked, rubbing his back in a motherly kind of way. He blushed bright red, and was very glad that he had his face stuffed in his pillow. 

“Don’t call me that,” he said fiercely. 

“So sorry,” she said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all. 

“Please leave me alone, Narcissa. When I need a back rub I’ll tell you, but for the time being, I’m bloody exhausted, and I would prefer to be left alone,” he said rudely. He chanced a glance up at her angular face. She looked deeply hurt. 

“Fine,” she said, picking her bag up from the side of his bed. “Fine,” she repeated walking out. 

“Sorry, Sev. Bloody menace she is,” Regulus said, stating the obvious. Severus didn’t say anything, leaving an awkward silence behind. “I’ll just be going then,” Regulus said awkwardly, stepping through the dormitory door, and into the crowded common room below. For a few hours, Severus tried to sleep, listening to the steady flow of water from the Black Lake just above. Most people would consider it soothing, but the more he listened the more unnerved he felt, as though the waves above him weren’t made of water, but of flaming hot lava. 

More people continued to gather in the common room, either going to their own beds, or to hold conversations with one another. Eventually though, they all seemed to drift off into their own worlds, and fall into slumber, although Severus remained awake. He was always awake. 

Finally, when he didn’t think he could stand it for another second, he stood up, still in his underclothes, and paced around the dorm. Luckily, most of the thugs who bunked with him were heavy sleepers, and needed some of the loudest alarm clocks possible in order to wake them from their deep slumbers. He pulled his trunk out from beneath his bed as quietly as he possibly could. He dug through it, trying to find something warmer to put over his underclothes, because even when the days were steadily becoming warmer as summer approached, the castle was cold, especially in the dungeons. 

He pulled on a pair of blue pajama pants, and a bathrobe over it. He sighed, and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair looked greasier than usual, probably due to the fact that he hadn’t showered in a week. He ran a hand through his greasy black hair, and sighed in disappointment realizing that he’d never be as good as Potter, never. Lily would always like him better, even if she didn’t want to admit it. He’d always be better than him, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. But, it was worth a try wasn’t it? Was it not worth a try to regain a friendship for years? He knew it was a longshot considering what he had said to her, but he couldn’t leave things like this. 

Mustering up as much courage as he could, he stepped out of the dormitory. It was after hours, so he had to be sure to watch out for Mr. Pringle, who in his old age was reaching a new level of grumpiness. Regulus got a severe beating after he had jinxed a small first year girl. They still hadn’t been able to remove the frogs from her stomach. Luckily though in the last year, he had managed to find an assistant caretaker by the name of Argus Filch: a grumpy, severe, washed up looking nineteen year old youth, who seemed to have taken a liking to Severus in particular. There was one slight glitch though: he was a squib. Being teased about associating with a Mudblood already, the boys in his gang deemed him soft because of his friendship with the young man. Sometimes he would wonder why it was always him. But that was unimportant now. 

Right now the only thing rushing through his head was Lily Evans, and unlike his formal series of thoughts about her, these thoughts were now filled with worry and anticipation. Luckily though, there was nobody perusing the castle down in the dungeons. Every once in a while he would hear a noise, and jump behind a pillar, or suit of armor. Usually it was just Filch’s kitten, Mrs. Norris. She was nearly as scruffy and unkempt as him. She knew to avoid him though ever since he got her with the tongue tying curse he had perfected over the school year. He had made a mental note to never mention this to Filch though. 

Because Snape had watched James Potter and his gang of cronies morning to night, he knew where the Gryffindor common room was located: atop the grand staircase behind a portrait of a very fat lady in a pink silk dress that bulged at the seams. You would watch them too if you were bullied day to night by a bunch fat headed over-popular arses. 

“Password?” the Fat Lady asked when he came to the top of the steps. 

“I don’t have a password,” he said bluntly. 

“No password, no entry,” she said firmly. He glared at her, and she just continued to pick at her chipped coral pink nail polish. 

“I only want to talk to a friend!” he tried to reason with her. 

“That can wait until morning dear,” she said heatedly. He groaned, and put his long fingers to his temples as though he were trying to suppress a burgeoning headache. 

“Actually it can’t. You see, she’s really special to me and-”

“-Well in that case of course you can come in!”

“Really?” he asked hopefully. 

“No! Go back to your own common room if you know what’s best for you sonny!” she said, shooing him away with a brush of her hand. He ignored her and drew his wand from his pocket. 

“Muffliato,” he muttered, pointing around himself at the staircases, and the corridors leading off from the Fat Lady’s portrait. The Fat Lady looked curiously at him, but didn’t say anything, observing every move. He pointed the wand in multiple places, first the staircase down, and then the other staircases just in case. 

“Now,” he said, stowing his wand back inside of his bathrobe. “Let me in or I will scream at the top of my lungs,” he said stubbornly. 

“Do it. Might as well tell Mr. Pringle to get the chains out,” she said smugly, folding her arms over her large bosom. He flashed a dangerous smile and said in the silkiest, most dangerous voice he could manage:

“I’m used to chains, they don’t scare me.” Her smug smirk flickered for a moment, and he smirked in satisfaction. And then he started to scream at the top of his lungs, just as he promised. 

“LILY!” He yelled. 

“What do you think you are doing?” The Fat Lady hissed in a mutinous whisper. 

“LILY!” He continued yelling. 

“Ssssshhhh! You’ll wake everyone in the whole bloody castle!” She said, waving a finger at him since she couldn’t exactly reach him from within the canvas. But, the portrait hole opened to prevent the poor Fat Lady from having to bear his yelling. 

“What the hell are you doing, Snape?” said a blonde girl. Mary looked murderous at the sight of him. 

“I want to speak to Lily,” he said firmly.

“I gathered that much,” she replied in a clipped tone. 

“Please let me see her!” he begged, and Severus Snape wasn’t one to beg which was saying something. 

“She was in a right state this afternoon, Snape! I’m not going to put her through that again! Now you just bugger off, yeah?” she said, turning around to go back inside of the Gryffindor common room. 

“If she doesn’t come out here and talk to me, I swear I’ll stay out here all night!” he threatened, making her turn around, flipping her hair back in an annoyed manner. 

“Go ahead,” Mary sneered. “You seem to be good at finding trouble anyway, Snape. Give it a go and embarrass yourself,” she said. 

“Remember that one time in third year where some of my mates caught you and Longbottom in the boy’s toilets? Well, let’s just say Avery wasn’t too happy about that. Well, he’s gone, but we know what he did. You wouldn’t want that to happen again now would you?” Mary stiffened. He smirked in satisfaction. “Let me speak to her, please,” he added. 

“Fine!” she muttered, trying to sound tough, but in vain. “She’ll be out here in a second.”

So then he waited, impatiently tapping his foot on the cobblestone beneath his feet. 

Then, she appeared out of the portrait hole looking as gorgeous as ever, her beautiful red hair falling in light soft curls on her shoulders, her pale freckled face shining as though it were the moon itself. Then he realized the tear stains leading from her beautiful green eyes down her slightly pink cheeks. Instantly he felt a lump rise in his throat as guilt washed over him. 

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing he could say, and he sincerely meant it. 

“I’m not interested,” she said, folding her arms over her dressing gown clad chest. 

“I’m sorry!” He pleaded. 

“Save your breath,” she snapped back at him. “I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here,” Lily explained. 

“I was. I would have done,” he reassured her so that he didn’t sound like a coward. “Look, I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just-”

“-Slipped out?” she finished for him, scowling up at the boy she once considered a friend. “It’s too late. I’ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends,” she paused her ranting to see if he were to deny it. When he didn’t, she fumed. “You see, you don’t even deny it! You don’t even deny that’s what you’re all aiming to be! You can’t wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?” 

He was speechless. Completely and utterly speechless, and he wasn’t usually speechless. Often he had something to say on every matter there was, but this. 

“I can’t pretend anymore,” she said sadly looking into his dark black eyes. They shone with regret. “You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine

“No-listen I didn’t mean-”

“-to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?” He wanted to tell her. To tell her how he loved her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. But it was too late. She threw him a nasty glare, and with that stepped through the portrait hole. Then, he lost it. His knees went weak, and he collapsed on the rail that was to the staircase below, and cried. It was the hardest he had cried since the last summer when his father last beat him. He didn’t know how long he had sat there, swaying back and forth on the moving staircase sobbing before Argus Filch found him, and he knew how much trouble he was in, but honestly, he couldn’t care less.


	3. Packing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a bit of a filler. Just a bit of fun really, so I hope you enjoy.

The day that the Hogwarts Express departed started as it always did; chaotic, and simply buzzing with anticipation. All of the less responsible kids were hurriedly stuffing lost items and artifacts into their trunks, while rummaging through drawers for anything they might have left by accident. This particular group just happened to consist of none other than James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Remus Lupin had made sure that all of his remaining school supplies, clothes, and valuables were locked securely into his trunk. This precaution was meant for unfriendly Slytherins that might just find themselves creeping through the Gryffindor’s things in search of an embarrassing item that might just ruin the rest of their lives, but mainly for his friends who enjoyed doing the exact same thing. 

“Will I be seeing you lot over the summer then?” James asked his friends, while wrestling a pair of underpants into his overflowing trunk. 

“Be seeing me for sure. Don’t know if I can stand another summer with Mum and Reg moaning about some other Muggle neighbor moving into the block,” Sirius stated, kicking the end of his bedpost to vent his frustration. He was always like this at the end of another school year. James couldn’t blame him. He had stayed at Sirius’s house once, and he was practically begging to leave by the end of it. The details were a bit too awkward to explain though. 

“Don’t worry, Padfoot. You’re always welcome at ye olde’ Potter Manor,” James said. 

“Don’t boast you bigheaded git,” Sirius said grinning ruefully at his best friend. 

“C’mon Paddy, you want me to be sophisticated now? Well that’s surely going to happen,” James said. Both boys busted out laughing. It got to the point where they were both rolling around on the floor, tears streaming from both their eyes. 

“Oh come on you idiots, it wasn’t even that funny!” Remus snapped. He was in a particularly irritable mood because he was helping Peter pack for home. Peter just happened to have lost his wand, and both Pettigrew and Lupin couldn’t help but suspect Potter and Black for being responsible for this little mishap. 

“You two are being complete dolts! Just tell us where you put Wormy’s wand,” Remus begged, trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes with his thumbs. Remus had been waking up every night now with vivid dreams of the moon. It wasn’t the worst dreams that had ever happened to wash over him in his not-so-peaceful slumber, but he was easily frightened by the moon. It was his mistress. It was his controller. And by having these horrible dreams of his controller was dead scary, and it had gotten to the point of absurd annoyance. The exhaustion was the worst part, but he was used to that. Being a werewolf did have its prices. 

The two dark haired boys looked at Remus with pity. He had dark circles under his caramel brown eyes, and his sandy hair looked more limp and lifeless than usual. They had begged Remus to take a dreamless sleep potion, but he had refused. Seeking help from Madam Pomfrey made him feel weak. It was in that moment where all of them stood silent between one another, and an uncomfortable awkwardness issued between them. Sirius turned away pointedly to look at James.

“Should we give it to him, Prongs?” Sirius asked looking apprehensive, snapping them out of the reverie 

“It would ruin the fun,” James said. 

“But tell me, is it the right thing to do?” Sirius asked, trying to keep a straight face. 

“Fine, be a dick!” James said, grinning at Sirius. He extracted the wand from his robes. It was covered in pink lace. 

“Perfect name to call me in the situation,” Sirius winked. 

“No coincidence, mate,” James winked back. He handed Remus the wand. Remus looked puzzled. Both boys watched as their friend unwrapped the wand. 

“Women’s knickers?” Remus asked in disbelief. “Women’s knickers? You have to be joking! You two are sick,” James and Sirius collapsed on James’s bed gasping for air in their long awaited last laugh. The prank was actually meant for Peter, but he was looking for his special shampoo in the showers. They had stolen that from him as well.


	4. Back to Spinner's End

Severus hopped off the train as it came to a screeching halt, pulling his heavy trunk along with him. He stumbled unskillfully on the steps, and fell onto his hands and knees, scratching his palms badly on the pavement. He could hear the infuriating laughter flood his ears as he picked himself up, and wiped his bleeding palms on his frayed and tattered robes. 

Grabbing his trunk, and hauling it over to a trolley, Severus looked out for where his mum might be, searching for the mess of straight black hair that was like his own. He felt a sinking disappointment arise; she wasn’t there. Although half of him knew that she wouldn’t be, he couldn’t help but hope that she’d change her ways and appear just this once. He remembered how Lily used to invite him over to stay at her place sometimes. Her mum would always refuse though, maybe because of his slightly unhealthy, dirty look, or maybe just because she didn’t want a boy in her house while her girls were still underage. Either way, he always felt the same sinking feeling in the pit of his gut every time he approached a taxi on the Muggle street just on the outskirts of King’s Cross Station: the unsettling realization that he’d have to spend the rest of the summer with the man who resorted to Muggle dueling to deal with matters, and a woman who was blinded, and couldn’t care less about him or the world around her. 

He climbed into the cab, partly listening to the man on the car stereo, mostly not. The driver helped load his trunk in the back along with him. Severus couldn’t help but appreciate his kindness even though he was a Muggle. He muttered thanks to the man, blushed, and looked down at his shoes in shame it had been his goal for the last few weeks at school to stop caring about those inferior to him; Muggles, and Muggleborns. He called it the “Getting Over Evans Project”. He was glad that he was a decent actor, otherwise his gang might suspect some means of treachery on his part, therefore he was even more glad that they didn’t possess the mental capacity to be able to uphold the art of Legilimency. 

The shadowy, dank neighborhood of Spinner’s End looked how it always did: cold, littered, and familiar. Just the way that the river wound its way around the trees on the outskirts seemed semi-creepy. He unconsciously thanked the driver, and handed him a wadded up handful of Muggle currency, not even bothering to count the amounts. He dragged his trunk up the empty driveway, and towards the thin wooden front door. It had begun to hang off of its hinges, but not quite to the point where anybody would notice if they hadn’t been observing it for quite a while. Lily would probably notice. 

Ever so gingerly, he grasped the knob in hand, and twisted. There was a squeaking, reminding him that it probably hadn’t been oiled since the summer previous. He stepped inside, attempting to prevent the smell of his mother’s perfume burn his nostrils, and the stench of his father’s beer give him a raging headache. It was all so blurry. The sitting room was empty, except there was a crackling fire despite the fact that it was summer, and the books were stacked neatly on their shelves. Maybe his mother had gotten out of bed and done some cleaning for once. Either that or his father had brought home another woman to sleep with while his mother sat in bed not caring. 

Past the sitting room was a door, which led to a hallway and a staircase: the staircase had his mother’s bedroom. He liked to imagine that his mother was like Rapunzel when he was young, because Rapunzel turned out to be a happy girl with a happy man with a happy life, and that’s what he wanted for her. But he realized that Muggle fairytales were meant for Muggle children, and Muggles didn’t like to believe in that sort of thing, and that was why they wrote down ludicrous ideas such as Rapunzel and Cinderella; to entertain small minded children who would grow to be narrow minded adults, and would soon come to give their own Muggle children or grandchildren the same stories to read. And yet, they only came to the same conclusion: it wasn’t real. Maybe that’s why his mother was always so blank and mentally “not there”. Because maybe the time that she had spent with his Muggle father had transformed her into something to the likes of what he was. She neglected what was there, as did Muggles. That was just his theory though.

He dragged his trunk down the hallway as quietly as he could, trying not to let the edges catch on the filthy matted carpet. He could hear giggling from his father’s bedroom. He was probably in there with another one of his lady toys. He rolled his eyes, and opened the door just to the right of his dad’s and entered. The walls were plastered with a gray toned wallpaper. There weren’t any posters or pictures posted upon the headboard of his twin sized bed, nor were there any carpet on the floor; just an assortment of simple floorboards, and a dusty blue carpet that was nearly as boring looking as the walls were. He sighed, noticing yet another stain on the once clean sheets of his bed, telling him that his dad had another accident with the beer in his son’s bedroom. Severus would bet that in the time he was away, his dad forgot that he even had a son, until he found the front door unlocked, and the usual dusty carpets spotless. 

He sighed, and stripped the bedclothes from the creaking mattress, peeling off the sick stain, leaving behind the old scratchy material of the mattress. He lied back, resting his head into his old pillow, listening to the sounds of a mattress creaking in the room beside his, of the sounds of the owls hooting outside, of the hinges on the door squeaking every now and again. And now, he came to the conclusion that he rather missed the sounds of the Black Lake trickling overhead.


	5. Surprise Party

There were a number of significant things that Lily disliked about being home. For one, Lily’s mother was determined to teach her the significance of culinary arts, convinced that they would come in handy some day. She was probably thinking of future grandchildren, and how best to raise them in the absence of fast food. She despised greasy hamburgers and pizza with a passion so fierce that both of the Evans girls knew well that they weren’t aloud to even touch anything that existed in a fast food resteraunt. Lily on the other hand was thinking of applying these skills to potions classes. After all, cooking and potion making weren’t that different.

During these occasions Petunia sulked in the corner, scowling at Lily, her jaw set. Lily just tried her best to ignore her studious, somewhat scolding glances. When Mr. Evans was still around at home they used to joke about it, and say that deep down Petunia was jealous. Lily knew it was wrong considering that she was her sister, but it had to be somewhat true. Why else would she be so incredibly bitter?

She also hated how her father’s work had interrupted their quality time, which had become less and less over the years. Sometimes he would come back from a long day at the office with dark circles under his eyes, and webs of wrinkles sketched into his palid skin. The bald spot on the top of his head had expanded since she had last seen him. In fact, when she first left for Hogwarts he hardly had any bald spot at all, mostly consisting of a few thining , grey hairs. Now she hardly recognized him in his rather fatigued state. 

On a good summer day, Lily would spend her days alone in the park, dwelling over her forgotten friendship with Severus. It made it worse now that it was summer, because Lily was so used to being with Severus during that lonely period of time. He was the only one who understood her, and she was the only one who understood him, and it all felt so perfect at the time. Although time went by as it always did, and he had become more of a stranger to her than he had ever been; something that bothered Lily something fierce. 

At times, Lily felt as though she were going to break down in misery. She hadn’t fully realized how much Severus meant to her until then, and having him taken away from her by something he himself had done broke her heart with a severity mostly coming from the fact that no Slytherins were present when it all happened. It hadn’t been peer pressure then. He had called her that out of his own free will, and friends didn’t call one another that sort of thing. She desired more than anything to go back to how things were before, but she knew she had standards to maintain, and that she wasn’t going to stand for being treated that way. That was just how she was raised, and what she believed. 

Mary had been helping her through it though. In fact, she had invited her over. She couldn’t help but suspect that Mary and the Prewett twins had most likely planned a ginormous party, mostly because they were famous for it at school, especially with the help of the Marauders. They would throw the most brilliant ones after Gryffindor won a Quidditch match, but she was often too tired to really enjoy them much. Mary on the other hand stayed up well past curfew to indulge in the party pleasures. Alice and Lily would both roll their eyes in frustration as they hauled her away to be put to bed so that she wouldn’t be late for transfiguration the next morning. 

“Lily!” Petunia shouted from the doorway, causing Lily to roll her eyes in annoyance. 

“What?” Lily shouted back. 

“Don’t you have to be at a friend’s house right now?” she asked. 

“They’re picking me up,” Lily explained. 

“Well they’re late!” well what a wonderful observation on your part Petunia, you’ve finally learned how to tell time, she said to herself. 

“Why does it make any difference to you weather they’re late or not?” Lily asked. Petunia scoffed. 

“Because it only proves that your folk,” she said with exxagerated disgust, “have no more respect than a tea kettle!” 

“But tea kettles can’t show any emotion, so technically they can’t display disrespect either,” Lily said logically, trying to keep the conversation friendly, but also wanting to one-up Petunia at the same time. Petunia merely scoffed again. 

“You know what I mean!”

“Of course I do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That I haven’t reached your level of unintelligence,” Lily replied. 

“Why I oughta-”

But whether or not she “oughta” or not nobody found out, for they heard a car pulling into the driveway, and a loud, disruptive honk. Petunia scowled, and turned her nose up in dissaproval. Thank the gods she’s here! Lily thought, slamming her book shut. She had just so happened to have picked up the closest book in the room which happened to be a very dull manual on manufacturing. She tossed the infernal book aside, and it landed with a soft thud onto the chair beside her, and stood up, grabbing her trunk, and hauled it into the kitchen behind her leaving Petunia on the foot of the stairs looking as sour as a lemon. 

“Mum, Mary’s here,” Lily said to her mother, who was rolling out dough with a rolling pin, her hands completely coated in flour. 

“I heard,” said Mrs. Evans grinning. “Come here sweetheart,” she said, putting down the messy rolling pin, and holding her arms open for a hug. Lily ran to her mother’s arms, and hugged her like she always did, even though she was very aware of the flour from her mother’s hands and apron being transferred onto her. “I’m sorry, Lily, you’re all powdery now,” Mrs. Evans said, examining Lily’s black cloak, which was covered in flour. 

“It’s fine,” Lily said quickly, knowing quite well that her mother would go on a fit of cleaning her up. 

“Alright,” Lily’s mother said. “Bye sweety,” she kissed the top of her head. 

“Bye Mum,” said Lily. There was another honk from the car outside, and mother and daughter separated. Lily picked up her trunk, and gave her mother a little wave, stepping outside of her house to be greeted by an enthusiastic (maybe a bit too enthusiastic) Mary. Lily’s vision was almost instantly obscured by a mess of shiny blonde hair. 

“Lily!” Mary shreiked. 

“Mary, calm down,” Lily said. 

“No, I haven’t seen you in ages! How would I be able to keep calm?” Lily rolled her eyes, but not in a mean way, just in her own Lily-esque amused way. 

Lily climbed into the passenger seat, which was made from a drab, grey, leather fabric that was fraying in multiple places. Mary climbed in beside her, and started up the car, which groaned and creaked as they slowly vacated the Evans’ driveway. Lily couldn’t help but revel at the feeling of the breeze on her face. She felt free. It would be an entire year before she would see Petunia again. But then she felt sad, lonely even, because she wouldn’t see her lovely mother for the same amount of time, except now it was a negative rather than a positive. There was a time when she would feel the same way about Petenia, but her descrimination against Wizards, depicting them as odd was just about all she could take. 

“Why so thoughtful?” Mary asked looking concerned. 

“No reason,” Lily said, snapping out of her revarie. 

“Someone on your mind?” she asked suggestively. 

“Not exactly,” Lily answered vaguely. 

“Tell me who!” Mary asked, bouncing in her seat from excitement. Lily shrugged. 

“Just Petunia I guess. She used to be so more accepting you know. Now she’s just, well, Petunia.” 

“Oh,” said Mary, looking dissapointed. 

“What?”

“Well I was hoping you were going to go on an entire monologe about how you’re secretly in love with James Potter, or how you’re over Snape, or-” but a glazed look came over Lily’s face, and Mary covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything.” 

“I know. I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I should just get over Se- Snape, and be on with my life,” Lily said. 

“Well things do take time you know,” Mary reminded her. 

“I know, but sometimes I wish it could all just be over with,” Lily confessed. 

“Well-”

“Look, Mary, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but can we please stop talking about it,” Lily asked, not rudely at all, but a bit desprately. Mary could see the tears beginning to brim her best friend’s eyes, and she nodded in agreement. 

“So what do you want to talk about?” Mary asked awkwardly. Lily simply shrugged, and continued to look out the window. 

“Didn’t you say you lived in the city?” Lily asked in confusion when Mary turned onto a completely opposite street. Mary tapped the steering wheel nervously. 

“Yeah, but we moved,” she improvised. Lily furrowed her brow. 

“Right. That’s exactly why you said that you were so disapointed because you had to go all the way back to London in June? That makes perfect sense,” Lily said sarcastically. Mary was silent for a moment. “Come on, Mary! I have a right to know where you’re taking me!” Lily pleed, giving Mary the puppy dog eyes. 

“Fine, we’re going to a party,” confessed Mary, giving Lily a glare. Lily smirked in satisfaction. I knew it, she told herself. 

“Who’s party?” she asked. 

“I can’t tell you that, sorry,” Mary said, and it was her turn to smirk. 

“Why not?”

“It’d ruin the surprise of course,” she said as though it were obvious. 

“Were the Prewetts involved in it?” Lily asked, attempting to build on her suspicions, but Mary shook her head. Lily was puzzled. Who else would be keen on throwing a party during summer, where they would invite both her and Mary, the two nerds? Then it dawned on her. 

“No!”

“What?”

“You didn’t…you wouldn’t…it’s not,” Lily stuttered. 

“Who?” 

“Oh you know who it is Mary! I can’t believe you’d sabatoge me into a party with Potter!”


	6. Surprise Party (part 2)

To her pleasure, it was only her, for once all alone, but her displeasure easily squashed said pleasure into something smaller than even an atom. She was sitting in silence, but unknown to the eye of any by passer unaware of the current situation, she was silently boiling with burgeoning anger. If she had been a mood ring, she would be a blazing red, brighter than that of the disheveled hair atop her head. It was easy for her to believe that Mary in particular was indeed capable of hijacking her Muggle father’s nearly broken down jalopy, driving to a friend who lived considerably more than a ways away, kidnapping the friend and taking her to the house of the friend’s mortal enemy. That was indeed possibly if considering the status Mary had collected, spelling out in the boldest of lettering “ANNOYINGLY OVER-PERSISTANT MATCHMAKER!” Despite this distinct possibility, Lily hadn’t thought it plausible in the least that Mary would go out of her way to do such a thing to HER!

After Mary and Alice had somehow managed to evacuate Lily from the car, Mary had left her to cool off, but not after Lily’s typical confrontation with the scrawny, messy haired git also known as James Potter. It was of course filled with the usual “Lily pad, my dearest of dears, the object of my everlasting affection, etc…, etc…” and following of course was a harder than usual kick to the bollocks. After Potter had hobbled away from the seething redhead, Mary decided it was best to evade harm’s way, even if she didn’t have the proper genitalia to comply with Lily’s perfected “James Potter worthy” kicks. The results just wouldn’t be the same. Of course, Lily was unable to see how exactly she looked in that moment: her lips pursed together over teeth that were grinding together in anger, her eyebrows drawn up into the most evil of glares, and the fact that her hair was frazzled and tangled only added to the dementedness of it all. She assumed that Mary only wanted to leave to join in with the festivities, as she dragged poor round faced Alice behind her into the neighboring room, where the residue of music seemed to seep beneath the cracks of the door separating one room from the other, but that wasn’t at all the case. 

Not a single part of her was willing to join the festivities, not a single morsel of her being longed to be in the room beside her. If she could only escape this house she would, but curiously, every time she approached the door leading to the car, it would somehow catapult her backwards, into the wall opposite. It now left her with an aching feeling in her side, where she had been grabbed by some mysterious invisible hand. Probably another reason she had deliberately forced her foot deeper into his….never mind. 

Still fuming, and as consumed as one could be in loathsome thoughts of guaranteed revenge on all in league with the anger inducing scheme, she hadn’t taken any notice of the arrival of another guest making his way away from the blasting music and to the couch which was perched upon. Only did she realize the presence of the sandy haired boy was when he began to cough. The sudden interruption of noise caused her to jump from her reverie as well as her couch. 

“Oh Remus! You startled me!” she said, still very much aghast at the sudden appearance of the boy. She hadn’t really spoken to him personally before, absent from the occasional whispers of helpful facts during potions class, where it was safe to say, Remus was a mess. She wouldn’t say she was friends with him, nor would she say that they were enemies as she and the other Marauders, but she respected him. Acquaintances might be the proper terminology. Often in third or fourth year, Severus would catch Lily whispering something to Remus out of the corner of her mouth while Professor Slughorn drawled away about certain brewing methods, each confusing sequence specific to the ingredients used. She had stopped helping him around the same time she and Severus had begun to fall out. Perhaps that was why it came as such a shock to see his change in features since then. His eyes were a deeper amber now, and his hair seemed to have become streaked with the occasional but prominent premature grey. His shoulders seemed broader, and his height must have increased by at least two inches. He looked exhausted, which didn’t bode well since he was surrounded by just the opposite. There were linear scars lining the side of his face, barely noticeable, but in the dim light they were cast into an eerie glow. None of the previous she had noticed or cared about before, but now that they were in the common position to share a conversation with him she was forced to pay attention to that which she would usually ignore. 

“I’m sorry, I should have announced myself,” he said, his voice low, but distinctly hoarser than she had remembered it being. He grinned apologetically. 

“No, it was my fault,” said Lily, as she settled herself back onto the couch. He shot her a quizzical, somewhat amused look. 

“How would that be?” He asked. 

“I was just thinking,” replied Lily. She was intrigued as well as annoyed at the grin that had come over Remus’s face. It wasn’t like Sirius’s grin; broad and jovial, laced with the mischief that made people turn around in their seats to see what he could have possibly done. It wasn’t like Peter’s; sheepish, and confused as to what the joke was, or if it even was a joke in the first place. Least of all Potter. His smile was completely idiotic. Mind bogglingly stupid. It surfaced at the strangest of times, the most normal of times, the most awkward of times! It was always bloody there! Even when Lily gave him a well-deserved knock over the head with her enormous History of Magic book, he looked back at her, grinning at her, as though she had just given him a sloppy wet kiss. No, Remus’s grin was different. It was a rarity, and something that she thought ought to be valued. It seemed to change his entire face, to erase the exhaustion, and disguise those prematurely grey hairs. She realized in shock that this was the first time she had ever seen Remus Lupin smile!

“What?” Lily asked, unable to hold back her curiosity. 

“If it was your fault for ‘just thinking’ then I must be at fault most of the time,” Remus said. Lily grinned at Remus, delighted that he grinned back. She seemed to have forgotten her anger, and Remus mentally celebrated his newly acquired victory. 

“Must mean Potter and Black are almost never at fault,” Lily added on, attempting to continue the joke, but instead of laughing like she had intended, Remus’s jovial smile seemed to melt off of his pale face. He looked ill again. He noticed that Lily was no longer smiling as well, instead looking concerned and sorry at the offense she may have unintentionally bestowed. Seeing her obvious change of demeanor, he cast her a swift, reassuring smile, but it wasn’t sincere like the former one. 

“Doesn’t sound quite right,” he replied honestly, though in a low voice, as if afraid he might be heard. Bloody unlikely over the immense racket of the reverberating music! “Or does it sound entirely right?” He asked, as he lifted his cup of steaming firewhisky to his lips. Lily didn’t know how to answer this question correctly, or if there was any real correct answer at all. But by the time Remus had finished off the last of the firewhisky, leaving only the dregs to rest at the very bottom, it was apparent that he’d either forgotten about the question (which seemed unlikely considering his incredible memory), or that the question was intended to remain unanswered. 

“Why are you even friends with Potter and Black?” the words escaped her lips before she could stop them! It didn’t seem as though the question hadn’t even surfaced to her mind’s disposal before presenting itself in the most awkward of fashions. Lily’s face flushed with color, realizing what she had just said. “I only mean to say that you don’t really seem very much like the others. You’re smart and funny and kind and….well you know how they are!” she exclaimed frantically, her words clamoring over one another in the fruitless attempt to lighten the situation. It was evident that Remus’s demeanor had changed towards her by the conclusion of her question. The damage was done. 

“Indeed, I do know them. I know them exceedingly well. That’s sort of what five years of sharing a dorm does to you. Maybe that’s why I know that every statement regarding my friends that you have declared is false. I as well as James and Sirius are intelligent. Despite popular belief I’m not single handedly responsible for the plots behind their pranks. It takes a load of magical intellect to take on an entire table of Slytherins with the same charm, and most of the work isn’t credited to me. I’m often the one discouraging their endeavors. Admittedly, Peter may be a bit clumsy at times, a bit in need of assistance at one point or another, not necessarily up to par with the curriculum, but aren’t we all at one point or another? It doesn’t diminish the very good qualities that he beholds, and I’m certain that he’s a true Gryffindor and a great friend. I am also certain that they all have a sense of humor, however unique or warped it is, they definitely have it, seeing as it seems to be the only thing they want to put their understanding of various branches of magic to. James is the most loyal person I know, more loyal than most people think. He doesn’t sleep around with multiple people as rumored, which I know is a surprise (subconsciously or not) to you. Sirius on the other hand….let’s just say he has a bit of a different ‘sleeping schedule’ than James. Perhaps if he had a fixation on a certain someone like James obviously does he’d be a bit more er- tame,” said Remus, a note of sorrow escaping his lips. “The point is, is that they’re not just lunatics. James isn’t just a hopeless romantic, who babbles nonsensically about red hair and green eyes. Sirius isn’t just an annoying brainless dickhead that spends hours in front of a mirror. Peter and I aren’t just bystanders hired to admire the two of them. I know that’s how it may seem and I know that some of it’s true, but James really only acts that way around you because he’s a hopeless git who hasn’t any idea how to win your heart or whatever ideas he has in his mind. If you don’t intend to try and decipher it yourself, you’ll just have to take my word for it. We aren’t just followers of one another in a silly little posse. We are a better part of each other in a way. Let us just assume as an example, one of us died. The rest of us wouldn’t be the same. Sirius would be like a lost puppy, and our sense of decision making would be warped without the advice or guidance of each other. Maybe we’d learn to appreciate Prongs’s never ending ‘Evans appraisals’. I suppose I can’t clearly interpret a singular answer to your question. All I know is that we’re there for each other and know what’s best for one another even when we ourselves haven’t any idea,” Remus finished. 

He stood up abruptly, and disposed of his empty cup in the bin next the couch before walking through the door leading to the party, leaving Lily Evans utterly speechless on the same couch, in the same corner, the same stench of butterbeer and rain permeating the air around her, but with quite the different train of thought. She could understand what Remus was saying, for she felt the same way about Mary and Alice. They were always there for her even if they lead her into the strangest of situations. She pondered for a moment Mary’s judgment. Why had she thought this party a good idea if she had Lily’s best interests at heart? She couldn’t seem to find a plausible answer to the question, and could only hope it would reveal itself in time. 

Unbeknownst to Lily, just beyond the door a certain black haired fellow was deep in conversation with a certain Remus Lupin. In his hand was an unopened bar of Honeyduke’s Finest Milk Chocolate. 

“I heard what you said about my ineffective woman wooing methods,” James said, holding the chocolate just out of Remus’s reach. 

“So?” said Remus, reaching for his wand, evidently to attempt to retrieve his precious candy. James’s grip only tightened. 

“So, I’m here to tell you, that my woman wooing methods are superb! And for doubting said methods, you only get half,” James said, with a smug grin. 

“Like hell I will,” Remus said, grabbing the full chocolate bar from James’s hand, before tearing off onto the dance floor.


	7. When Sirius Comes Home

He believed books to be his requisite to maintain a relatively normal life concerning his abnormal condition. Luckily nobody knew of said condition though besides the essential people to whom he’d trusted to not only maintain but to protect his secret. He hated to even imagine the tempest there would be if he was found out. Unfortunately one person of whom he had entrusted with his secret, an individual whose name he never would’ve placed next to the word “betrayal”, divulged his secret, and he was left with a consistently empty feeling in his gut. He wished it were just a passing faze of nausea. He wished that the sickening feeling in his stomach would be due to that funny tuna sandwich he’d eaten at lunch yesterday when he’d found they were all out of peanut butter and jelly. He wished that his thoughts would be replaced by a pulsating headache empty of meaning than the one beating on his head from analyzing the situation too much.

At least the other day he was able to get away from it all for a while and pretend that everything was back to the way it was before. At James’s he was able to take up the task of talking to Lily for James again, for James had wisely become somewhat hesitant at approaching the furious redhead after a particularly enthusiastic kick to the…lower male region. And let us not forget the firewhisky! It was a key ingredient to the forgetting portion, and only began his restless fidgeting at the end of the night when James collapsed on the couch fast asleep, and Pete had gone to escort a slightly plump Hufflepuff girl out the door; the clumsy gentleman as always. That’s when he realized there was no Sirius snogging the convenient Ravenclaw bird in the foyer in what she would take to be quite the romantic occasion, when really, he was just in the need for a surfeit amount of nightly shagging. But no the absence of Sirius made the room feel as empty as his stomach. This time, he wasn’t with his lovely books to distract him, even though he’d been stuck on the same page for weeks, the unfortunate event an impediment to his literary escapades. There was no chocolate to savor. Not even James’s loud snoring could perturb his train of thought, which was significantly saying something.

He just wished that it hadn’t ever happened, because now he was desperately and hopelessly torn. He wanted with every morsel of his being to forgive Sirius and act like the thing never happened, but he was skeptical of the amount of trust he ought to place in him. It would be awkward, because he would most definitely be faced with the prospect in quite the forceful manner by returning to Hogwarts. In all honesty, he probably wouldn’t face the prospect at all if it weren’t forced upon him, as he was certain he could survive on chocolate, books, ink and parchment. At school, they were the spectacle, and it was only natural (as James put it) for the peasants of Hogwarts (students that weren’t “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs”) to keep their undivided attention lingering on their kings (students that were “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs” [but mostly Padfoot and Prongs]). Remus agreed that James’s observations were correct, but the truth was without the arrogant glamorization. People did notice their predicament, though not the basis for said predicament, and that’s why on the days pre-summer-break he’d acted like nothing had gone wrong. But pretending had wearied him before, and pretending had wearied him again, leaving him in a state of utter infirmity. He didn’t know if he had the energy to deceive the entire student body any more than he already had.

It was strange, because Hogwarts had always been a place of security, where he’d always been at peace and at ease. He’d always anticipated the return, and indulged in the perks of being a Hogwarts pupil, because he almost wasn’t one two times in his life; once when he was uncertain of his acceptance to the school at age eleven,(special request of Dumbledore), and when Sirius divulged his secret. Hogwarts was one of those places where there were good and bad things that happened to you, but in the end you only remembered the good, because that was all that mattered. He’d never dreaded returning to such a place, but he did now.

And as he lay there on the couch in James’s living room, he listened to the night and he tried to listen to the crickets chirping outside to distract him from his darker thoughts, by which time were becoming admittedly tedious, and he tried to ignore the persistent ringing of the doorbell, and the knocking upon the ornate wooden door.

\------

Of course he’d attempted the dangerous before, because he, Sirius Black, fed on danger. It was his addiction, his stimulant, the thing that he felt fully qualified him as a true Gryffindor despite being completely and utterly insane. Insanity was just the side dish to danger. Or perhaps it was the topping? Sirius did love toppings. Especially on ice cream….and danger!

Before this, his most dangerous experience had to be the one where he’d jumped from the astronomy tower in first year, after he’d convinced James it’d be good to get some ‘real life practice’ in the art of levitation charms. Hence forth, he’d deemed himself a dangerous, swashbuckling rogue with natural suave and the heroic prowess equal to Godric Gryffindor himself, though he probably wouldn’t have done any such thing if dear mindless Peter hadn’t backed his fat arse into him the exact second he’d decided to peer over the edge of the railing to get a good look at what his face would collide with only moments post said glimpse. Luckily, James had managed to contort his face into what could pass as a serious (not punny at all, guys) expression at the look on poor Sirius’s petrified face, and cast the charm efficiently. He was only suspended for a moment but plummeted face first towards the Earth, as James broke into a series of delighted whoops at his own “fabulous” wand work. Sirius waved his pathetic, flimsy, first-year arms outstretched before him to catch the inevitable fall. Luckily he evaded death, a broken neck, and a friend with a possible life sentence in Azkaban. Instead he got off nearly scott free, except for a broken arm, two months’ worth of detention, and a look from McGonagall that said quite plainly she wouldn’t mind breaking the other arm. He then proclaimed he’d rather have faced death than his punishment of scrubbing the walls free of dung bomb induced vandalism credited solely to the seventh years (though Moony really did come up with the idea, the little scamp). Then there was that lovely Howler of course from dear lovely Mumsy who sent her best regards in said Howler, along with all the mandatory pleasantries that a lady did send in letters of those sorts (I really hope you got the sarcasm). The Howler didn’t necessarily count though, since he’d gotten one every other week since the sorting that “diminished the Black family honor,” as his mother put it.

No. what he did was far worse, far more dangerous, and ought to be far more illegal than murder! Reason being, he’d risked friendship, and he considered friendship a far more fragile, important, and rare force than life itself. He would happily risk life to maintain friendship, and not call it ridiculous or stupid because that would be a thrill compared to this misery. But through jeopardizing friendship, he would perhaps renounce his nobility, his class, his elegance, and appear completely vulnerable to admit his stupidity, because when you lose a friend, you don’t get that good thrill of danger like the one you get when you jump from the astronomy tower for a laugh. Unfortunately that’s just what he did, and unfortunately that’s what got him walking along the pavement morosely watching the concrete beneath him as streetlights of Grimmauld Place flash by as he walked to somewhere, anywhere, that would take him away.

Last year was when it happened, when he committed the terrible deed of betrayal. He risked the fragile friendship he had fumbled with for nearly five years. The terrible thing was he’d passed the stage of fumbling with the friendship. He’d dropped it, and was now waiting for it to hit the ground and shatter. The awful thing was the shards stuck more painfully in Remus than it would himself, and somehow, he’d known that all along, but hadn’t really cared until it had become apparent their friendship would shatter the moment Remus awakened from his post-moon slumber.

The easy explanation of why was because he’d not considered Remus’s condition to a degree as serious as it actually was. He’d forgotten the importance of the secrecy he’d been sworn to because by the time of the encounter, Remus’s “furry little problem” didn’t seem like much of a problem anymore after having seen the effects of it so many times over the past five years. It seemed common, and that was probably the worst false pretense he’d ever fallen under. He had silently vowed to never speak of it again, because it was a stupid mistake, but mistakes, mishaps, and accidents alike still leave scars, no matter the absence of intention. He thought Remus had vowed to do so too, because it seemed as though he didn’t mind the last few days before summer, when people had begun to get suspicious of the Marauders’ separation. Momentarily, he was filled with a giddy sense of joy when Remus spoke to him, before he realized Remus was looking through him, not at him directly in the way that old Remus used to look at him. And then he realized it wasn’t because of forgiveness, it was because he just wanted the people to stop looking.

He remembered the boy lying there in bed, his golden brown hair ruffled all over the pillow, all over his face, matted with blood and dirt. His face was engraved with a series of new gashes; a design to add to the map of scars. It was a spectacle he hadn’t seen since fourth year, when he’d abruptly burst into the Hospital Wing a windy Saturday morning to find Madam Pomfrey tending to the deep cuts vigorously slashed into Remus’s pale skin. Remus’s breath was still ragged against his lungs as he drew steady gulps of air in his sleep. Of course Remus hadn’t the slightest inkling of what the wolf had nearly done that night, but James did, and Sirius did too, and he wished with every particle of his being that the headmaster would hurry along with Snivellus’s recollection of the encounter so he wouldn’t have to explain the accordance of events to Remus himself. He hated how un-Gryffindor that sounded.

Of course James was commended for his heroism by McGonagall (who only knew half of the story), while James hung his head in guilt. And Sirius got reprimanded by Dumbledore, which he really didn’t need, because he knew he’d done wrong, and Dumbledore ought to know that because Sirius Black never looked down at the floor when he was being told off. He always looked the administrator of discipline in the eye and gave him his cheeky defense. He was defenseless this time, because he knew that he couldn’t possibly find a defense truthful enough to justify his case. He didn’t exactly want to either. He’d looked at the lines of the floorboards, the lines scratched into the surface of the headmaster’s desk from predecessors who’d decided to write angry, vengeful letters with quills pressed too hard to the paper. He looked anywhere but the lines of Dumbledore’s face though, or worse, his piercing blue eyes. And he just let Snape talk, because everything was so bloody mixed up, and he couldn’t stop thinking of the vision of Remus’s back turned from him in the library, ignoring him talking during lunch, and walking with the Ravenclaws because, he, Sirius Black had betrayed him. And the wrinkles of his eyes, so deepened by laughing, were suddenly obscured by silent tears.

 

 

Without fully registering what he doing, he was knocking on the door of James Potter’s house…

\--------

“Sirius?” James asked blankly as soon as he shoved the door open to reveal a disgruntled looking Sirius Black, his hair nearly as messy as James’s. At the mention of his very name, Remus sat bolt upright in the couch, the blanket that had been tangled around him a moment before fell to the floor, and he blushed besides himself.

“Mate, why didn’t you come for the party? It was bloody depressing without you!” Sirius replied with an empty silence that James took no notice of, as he continued to babble incoherently. “Why’d you bring your trunk? Are you staying? Why didn’t you tell us!?” James was grinning ear to ear taking no notice of the scent of firewhisky lingering on Sirius’s lips, or the fact that his hair was more mussed up than usual, it’s carefully placed elegance leaving no trace.

Remus lowered himself slowly back onto the surface of the couch before James or Sirius could notice his discomfort.

“Shut up, Prongs, it’s late,” Sirius said, but as much as his comment would be appreciated if necessary as usual with James’s never ending obsessive dwelling over the one Lily Evans, it was completely useless, a waste of breath, as James had pitched himself to the plush leather armchair, and was already snoring in the way that gave Remus a reason to appreciate his time away from Hogwarts. 

Innocently, Remus watched as Sirius took of his jacket and laid it out beneath him as of a pillow, and curled into a ball somewhat like a cat. It would’ve made him laugh, the irony of cat vs. his Animagus form, the enormous shaggy black dog. But now, he was too thoroughly confused that he forgot to laugh.


	8. Back to Hogwarts

It was with relief that he stepped through the barrier. Although the relatively pungent fumes wafted from the train, Remus reveled in the familiarity of it all. The reverie was broken by a familiar face, though not one destined to the setting. Her voice was compressed by the stifling loudness of platform 9 ¾; the very overwhelming sound that reflected both their emotions. Lily Evans, with her billowing red hair smiled up at him. She was the only person whom he had spoken to since he left James’s house the morning after Sirius’s hasty arrival. Guilt echoed within him but he couldn’t be bothered with the banging on of apologies and the awkwardness that came with it. It seemed like a decent resolution to leave it and let things smooth out for themselves without the added pressure of Sirius’s insanity. 

The remainder of the summer had been spent in relative solace, in exception of the company of his father, who really wasn’t much company at all being locked away in his office at all hours. The very aura around the locked door reeked of stale coffee; the kind that’d been spilt over the carpet as his unshaven chin hit the desk, completely overcome with the exhaustion that the expulsion of words onto a blank paper had left him with. He lived for his art. Only when he’d left for the last time had he run into Lily. It’d been two days before their return to Hogwarts, what seemed to be the longest two days of his life, but he’d been glad to have gotten away from the silence of his father, and the burden of confusing complications with Sirius. 

“I guess this is it,” Lily said, as he helped her haul her trunk onto the train. His face flushed with the strain of lifting the gargantuan thing. 

“What is ‘it’?” Remus inquired with one last heave, that left his knees feeling a bit wobbly. It was almost the full moon, and he always got a bit weaker around the time, as if the wolf that festered within him were draining him of the energy it was to exert in a multitude within a night. And of course, Lily hadn’t a clue. 

“You’re going to have to talk to Sirius now. You can’t very well avoid him if you’re going to the same school-”

“-It’s a big school-”

“-and in the same year-"

“-I’ve arranged it: we’ll only have potions together-”

“-Not to mention you’re in the same dorm!” Lost for a good come back, he merely shrugged. He retracted a book from his bag, and carefully opened it to the fragile dog-eared page. It’d actually been a gift from Sirius upon his hasty departure; a stolen token from the depths of the Restricted Section. Evidently it’d been misplaced, for it contained only the most PG of fantasy material. 

“Well, you’re going to have to speak to James now,” Remus remarked, not looking up from his book. Lily merely scoffed. 

“When have I ever made it a priority to talk to him?”

“Ever since you haven’t been able to get your mind off of him,” Remus responded. She raised her eyebrows, staring agape at the sandy haired boy across from her, as if he were a complete lunatic. 

“You’re talking rubbish,” she said quickly. She tore her awkward gaze from Remus’s probing gaze as she bent down to rummage for something in her own trunk. What it was, she didn’t know, she just didn’t wanted an excuse to look away. 

“Lily, I know legilimency. You really don’t have to lie,” he said with absolute sincerity. Her face drained of color for a moment, before their eyes met and she flushed with a red to rival her hair. His eyes widened in surprise. 

“It’s true?”

“Wait, what? No! Not like that at least, I mean,” she said, and, as if it were possible, the rose color in her cheeks deepened even more. 

“How, then?” he asked. 

“Just at the party, what you said. Was it true, or did you just say it big up your friend?” she asked. 

“Both,” he said after a little contemplation. She nodded in understanding, and leaned back against the cushions of the compartment seat. 

 

***

It was on the back of a bike, where James was reflecting on his life. Sure, he’d ridden on a broom before, and very well might he add, but he felt that despite it’s closeness to the ground, a bike was more prominently placed in death’s path. And instead of the traditional trunk that would contain a year’s worth of contents for the school year, he had a flimsy duffel bag that had been thrown together in the haste of everything, most likely containing only have of the contents it should’ve. It seemed as though at that very moment would be the very time that something incredibly fateful might happen, almost plausible, as Sirius’s driving skills were wild and dangerous on a focused day, and today wasn’t even one of those. Especially not today. 

“See Prongs, I just don’t get it,” he ranted on, his fingers digging deeper into the foam molded around the bike handles, his teeth gouging into the strap of his duffel bag, which he unreasonably clung to like Padfoot. He was utterly unaware of the bespectacled boy behind him clinging to his middle like a petrified toddler. 

“Why did he leave like that? I didn’t even get a chance to speak with him!” Shouted Sirius into the corrupt air, infected with the fumes of passing busses and honking cars. 

“Perhaps because you nearly exploited him in front of the entire school, jeopardizing his every chance at a normal life,” James said. As soon as the words left his lips, he longed for the ability to reach out and capture them again from the air before they could land on Sirius’s ears. But of course, such an ability is unfathomable to any human, and it inevitably resulted in the abrupt jerk of wheels, and Sirius’s own temper thrown into a muddle. James clung on for dear life, his own nails digging into the clenched sides of Sirius’s stomach, as busses honked in their wake. 

“I had every intention of apologizing to him. I did apologize. I just didn’t get a chance to do it properly, okay?” Sirius growled, pulling his bike into an abrupt stop that lodged James’s jaw sharply into Sirius’s back. James was too frightened to speak, his eyes bulging so far out that they could probably touch the lenses of the glasses that had bumped down the front of his nose in all the ruckus. James shakily retreated off the bike, his legs wobbling as though he’d just been hit with a jelly legs jinx, his rucksack hanging loosely off his shoulder. Sirius himself flung his leg over the side of the bike to hop off and join James on the sidewalk, where the only danger was veering cars and his roaring temper. “Sorry,” Sirius grunted half heartedly. James merely nodded. 

***

The train had just vacated the station, with children practically hanging out of their windows to try to get a last glimpse of their waving parents. Even the trolley lady, who had a heart as sweet as the candies she sold, was yelling at them to get back in their seats. Remus had grown bored of the book already, a tiresome story about a lovestruck witch in love with a Muggle in the middle ages, the time where being a witch was certainly not something to brag about. The extravagant language that it used already had his head spinning, and that along with the customary road sickness wasn’t a good combination. 

“Anything good in the Prophet?” he asked Lily, whose head was embedded in the pages of moving pictures that made his spinning head nauseous. 

“Good? No. It’s really quite horrible actually,” she said in a strained voice. 

“What? What happened?” Remus asked. He had been on edge about the recent events being reported ever since the dementor attack on the Ministry of Magic’s own Doge Madgen, a well known advocate for Muggle’s rights. It’d happened in the same vicinity of Sirius’s cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, who Sirius had said (before their disagreement) he strongly suspected. 

“Do you remember Marlene McKinnon?” she asked him. 

“No, I can’t say I do,” he admitted. 

“She graduated a few years back, I think. She had blonde hair, and looked like Mary. Actually, I think she might’ve been a distant cousin of her’s, I’m not sure,” said Lily. 

“Oh that Marlene!” he exclaimed, suddenly remembering the tall, blonde girl. He didn’t know her personally, but often he could see her laughing at the Ravenclaw table with a crowd of girlfriends. “What happened to her?” he said, an influx of anxiety seeping into his voice. She began to read from the page. 

“Debra McKinnon, Barty Mckinnon and son, Gerald Mckinnon were found dead in their Oxford home early on the morning of August 31st. It was a blow to the neighboring Wizarding community, as the Mckinnon family have been a respected contributor to St. Mungos Hospital for decades. Marlene Mckinnon, the daughter of the deceased couple, found her parents and brother in the kitchen among a fleet of infiri. Infiri, as most of the Wizarding community have been informed in the latest issue of Magical Defense for the Practical Wizard, are bodies bewitched to do a dark wizard’s bidding. The dark wizard responsible, we strongly suspect to be He Who Must Not Be Named and members of his army, as this is only one of many attacks that have been reported to the Auror’s office this month. We’ve asked Rufus Scrimgeour, the new head of the Auror’s office about the recent disappearances and attacks. He refused to comment in detail, but has expressed his sincerity that this problem will most likely be put to a close in no time. His confidence in the leads that the Auror office have made are certainly reassuring, however we implore you and your family to remain cautious in the meantime,” Lily concluded. 

“It’s getting worse,” Remus said, his mouth dry. He leaned into the cushion of the chair and breathed in. 

“I know,” Lily said in a small voice, biting down on her lip. 

Suddenly, someone burst into the room. Remus jumped in his seat, and Lily released a small, but shrill shriek. They’d momentarily forgotten that they were in the Prefect’s compartment and not in a private one. Alice Adkins, accompanied by a Mary, who's eyes were bloodshot from crying and a lack of sleep. 

“Didn’t mean to frighten you,” Alice said with a kind voice. She smiled sheepishly as she led the disgruntled Mary to her seat. 

How’re you doing, Mary?” Lily asked. Remus leant forward, doing his best to seem genuinely concerned. 

“I’ll be fine,” Mary said, wiping the accumulating tears away with the sleeves of her shaggy sweater, as though she was frustrated at the very appearance of the tears on her cheeks. “I’m done with all this crying, it’s ridiculous,” she said, sniffing. 

***

"Where is he?” Sirius said, his leg jiggling up and down with anxiety. He was looking up and down the hallway through the sliding glass door, as though he expected Remus to come waltzing out to him. He also looked acutely displeased at James, as though his best friend had him shackled to the seat, when all James really wanted was to get away from him for a bit. 

"Shut up, you idiot. He’s in the prefect’s compartment!” James remarked, kicking Sirius’s foot in frustration. He was tired of hearing about the incident, Sirius’s apologies to Remus, Remus’s stubbornness to evade Sirius at every turn. He wished they’d just get over it and move on, but the severity of Sirius’s mistake suggested otherwise. 

“Oh yeah, he’s a prefect,” Sirius muttered to himself. 

They waited in an awkward silence for a moment, as James’s eyes scanned the pages of the Daily Prophet half-heartedly, distracted by the tapping of Sirius’s anxious fingers against the side of the wall. He sighed, closing the paper with a slam, and glared at Sirius. 

“Jesus! If you want to go find him so much, just bloody do it!” James said in a voice that was held under the tightest control, but still shook with rage and malice, as he flung the discarded paper into the corner of the compartment. Sirius shot up out of his seat, cast aside the sliding glass door and disappeared to find Remus. James sighed in relief and closed his eyes. It’d been days on end of Remus ranting and verbal family abuse and James was utterly through with it, though once pretending to behead cousin Bellatrix had once been a childhood sport of theirs. James picked up the paper again, and begin to read again. It was only once he got to the bottom of the page that his eyes caught on a familiar name. 

Meanwhile, Sirius was darting down the long hallway, dodging the odd first year and gaggle of oggling girls. “Siri-” he heard from an overexcited Peter, before he passed by the compartment. “Hey, Worms!” he bellowed back at him. He’d just reached the end of the narrow corridor, panting hard. He could see Remus through the sliding glass door, talking with the bright redheaded girl. “Remus,” he muttered the name, grinning, trying it out on his lips as it’d seemed to be gone for so long. Then, in an instant, it was like icy fingers had twisted his insides, and the grin melted from his face as Remus’s eyes met his. They went from jovial to filled with sorrow, before with a tired wave of his wand, the screen came down with a flap, and they were obscured from one another once more.


	9. The Wolf

He’d woken again to the rapid beating of his heart. Another dream, another moon, another memory lost among the stupor of the wolf. It was nearly time, and the scars shone more prominently now than ever all across his body. This was the first time in a year that he would face it alone. 

“Sirius,” he tested the name out on his lips. It was a dry taste that ached with familiarity, and it panged at his heart as he sat up with circles under his eyes from the tremors in his dreams; the constant waking and shaking, gasping for air as the blood ran down his matted fur, down Sirius’s sessile form, dripping over James’s glasses, and all over Peter. Even Snape had been there, his greasy hair cast aside from his face as Remus watched the wolf-him-sniff at the torn flesh. It was one of the many dreams he had leading up to the full moon. Now he could see the silver orb peaking out even in the early hours of daylight, waiting for him. 

Shakily, he lifted himself from his bed, feeling oddly aware of his body. It was as though the numbness in his limbs was only for the outside world. Inside, he could feel the blood pumping too quickly through his veins, his head spinning slightly, and his bones felt like lead beneath his skin. It had always been like this the day preceding the full moon; the symptoms would gradually increase throughout the day until a bustling Madam Pomfrey practically carried him down to the Whomping Willow, where they’d break out in a crescendo that was the final transformation. Even pulling on his clothes was a task, his fumbling fingers gliding across the buttons as though glossed with a thick layer of grease. He pulled on his socks with difficulty, and left his shoes untied because his limber digits felt too weary and numb to manage it. Unlike muttering Sirius’s name, this familiarity was one that he dreaded. He hoped that feeling never seeped into the memory of the lanky boy he’d befriended upon his first day at Hogwarts. 

It was as though he were listening to the soundtrack of a million songs slowed down as he moved down the steps of the Grand Staircase. He could hear the sound of the students around him, but it was in such a way that their voices were almost indistinguishable, the words halting and unclear. The wolf’s senses had already started to take over. 

He entered the Great Hall, muttering robotic apologies to those whom he accidently bumped into on the way in. He felt a sudden surge of anger that he couldn’t quite explain as he felt a hand close around his upper arm. He whipped around to see Lily. She must’ve seen the extreme expression on his face, for she gazed more deeply into his eyes with curiosity. 

“What’s happened?” he heard her voice, as if from behind a glass wall. 

“Nothing’s happened,” he said, again in a robotic voice that wasn’t entirely his own. 

“Surely something has,” she pressed on raising her eyebrows. A sudden surge of nausea swept over him and he felt the overwhelming need to sit down. Quickly, he turned away from Lily, and hobbled over to an empty spot along the far end of the long Gryffindor table. “Dammit, Remus Lupin, don’t you dare walk away from me,” she yelled after him. ‘Readheads…’ he thought with spite, as a sudden pain shot through his head at the extremity of her voice. 

“Please, Lily,” he mumbled as he ran his hands through his sandy brown hair. He could feel the wolf inside him burgeoning to take over. He could feel it’s hearing beginning to override his own, sounds everywhere. He could hear the scuffling of feet and the crunching of food under people’s teeth. It hadn’t yet gotten to the point where all form of speech had become obscure but it was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress the wolf’s senses and replace them with his own to recognize the voices reverberating around the Great Hall. 

“Remus,” Lily said with a frightened, but controlled voice. “Remus, you’re shaking,” she said. He raised his head from his hands and indeed, his hands were shaking with the tremors that hadn’t subsided that morning. Like the residue of all his disturbing dreams, it clung to him. Hurriedly, he stuffed them into his pockets so she wouldn’t see. 

“It’s nothing,” he said hurriedly. ‘You’re human, you’re human, you’re human,’ he told himself with a scrunched up face, doing his best to keep it to himself. 

“Remus, what’s the matter?” she asked him worriedly. 

“Nothing,” he growled fiercely. Instantly, he felt ashamed. ‘You’re human god dammit! Stop acting like a bloody twat!’

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” she said. 

“Please Lily, trust me, just leave it,” he said as calmly as he could. She subsided into silence. 

“If you need me, you know where I am,” she said. He nodded to the emptiness as she vacated the table. The sudden movement shot a scorching pain through his head. There was silence for a moment. Remus had closed his hands over his ears and shut his eyes so that he only saw the red of the inside of his eyelids and heard the subtle sounds of scuffling humans. Humans… ‘You’re human, you’re human, you’re human.’ 

“Moony?” he heard a voice that sounded warped and distorted from the muddled sensory perception mingled with that of his adamance to close of any sound at all.

“Sirius,” he said shortly in reply. Sirius cringed at the use of his formal name. It felt like that single name used by Remus confirmed the severing of ties between them. It was like an ice cube had dropped into his stomach. Maybe a couple of ice cubes. He pressed on anyway. 

“Moony, please speak to me,” he said. Remus was startled by the earnesty in his voice. It was all he could do to not look up into the deep gray orbs that were the definition of familiarity. His heart ached as he said-

“-Please Sirius, just go,” but Sirius, true to his character didn’t listen. 

“You’ve got to listen to me, Remus!” Sirius’s voice rose. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m bloody fucking sorry that I did something as stupid as I did!” people were beginning to stare, and Remus’s head was beginning to pound. “I never meant any of it against you, Remus. It was so daft. I’m daft! I’m a daft coward, okay? And I’m so sorry,” he pleaded, but Remus had already stood up, and on wobbly legs began to walk away. The noise, he had to get away from the noise, it would drive him mad hearing it in the two different ways all the time, like an echo ridden with guilt and self-loathing. 

“Remus please! I’m so sorry, I can’t express to you how sorry I am,” Sirius shouted after him as Remus ascended the stairs toward the landing that lead to the Grand Staircase. He didn’t know where he was going, he didn’t know why. All he knew was his head was killing him, and his knees were wobbling numbly under his weight. 

“Sirius, just go,” he shouted back with a force that he only just managed. He turned around to meet Sirius’s gaze. He didn’t exactly know why, but he couldn’t resist any longer. Blurred senses and a mingled urge to kill and cry all at the same time and collided into something that turned into a vast pit of emptiness inside him. 

“But Remus I l-” he stopped abruptly, staring at Remus for a moment. A thick gush of blood was rushing down his face from his nose. Remus noticed the horrified look on Sirius’s face, for he raised a hand to his face, a coating of red issuing over his hand. It came hot and thick, dripping down the front of his robes and onto the staircase. He looked horrified back at his hand, and felt a warm feeling settle in his stomach. It smelled good, like metal and meat and nourishment and….he breathed it all in. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and it wasn’t the food in the Great Hall that he craved. ‘You’re human, you’re human, you’re…’ the repeated conviction seeped out of him as his consciousness was obscured by a vague blackness that overlapped even the sight of the horrified eyes of Sirius Black above him, which he noticed, curiously looked like two moons.


	10. Friend?

And two counterparts circled each other in the body of water that encompassed them, a lake prickling with the cold of the late night summer breeze. They swam in the rays of moonlight just as much as they did the water, paws splayed and slapping at the sessile sheet of blue. And though the memories of that night would subside behind the wolf’s eyes into it’s own reserved memory bank, the residue would be left to the tattered, indistinguishable dreams of Remus Lupin. And in that moment, the black dog hoped that Remus could reserve the beauty of the moon that night, because for some reason, thrashing around in the water, even though the wolf lusted for human flesh and blood, the unconscious mind of Remus Lupin was for once at peace.

***

A war had begun. Though the signs were imminent, it’d seemed like a far away dream until now. Apparently the false sense of security was not only a quality of adolescents. Even the staff of Hogwarts were beginning to get more ancy, and the students’ suspicions turned to premature accusations only now rather than before. Just that morning, Sage Dickenson and her younger sister had been seen with their frantic looking mother, hauling them from Professor Dumbledore’s office. The two girls had started noticeably as they passed a group of Slytherins on their way from the castle. There was a war, and it made Sirius feel trapped, and angry, and cold, and uneasy. It’d been a few weeks since he’d departed from his parent’s house, and already he’d begun to realise he’d left a smaller cage only to walk into an even bigger, more deadly one.

None of that mattered at the moment though, because it was Remus on the hospital wing bed at the moment. And though he’d done his best to lick the wounds of the werewolf clean while he settled down onto the jagged floorboards that made up the Shrieking Shack to sleep into the next part of the transformation. It wasn’t as much blood as would be if Remus would’ve been left to his own devices, however a significant amount of new gashes, only a spare few inflicted by the wolf itself, covered his body. Most, Madam Pomfrey would be able to wash away with a few spells and excessive blotting of dittany, but another layer of scars would be vaguely scattered over his body. Remus was so ashamed of those scars, as though the ability to cause such damage on anyone, even himself, was an attribute of a monstrosity. That morning when Sirius awoke next to Remus, his arms wrapped around Moony’s unconscious body, he could hear the clattering of shoes and whispered warnings ascending the rickety wooden stairs. And when the door was flung open with the cautious creaking of rusty hinges, he barely had enough time to throw James’s cloak over himself. He’d watched as Madam Pomfrey levitated Remus onto a stretcher and floated him back to the castle, their presence masked by the thinning darkness. 

He’d missed breakfast as he made his way up to the Hospital Wing, even forgotten to remove James’s cloak. It wasn’t uncommon to stumble over the feet of fellow students whilst under the cloak, who looked around bewildered, as though another mysterious poltergeist was making it’s appearance at Hogwarts known, but this time he was more uncommonly uncautious than usual. As if Peeves wasn’t a menace enough. It was just as a seventh year conveniently exited the Hospital Wing, probably one of the more mature ones studying for their Healer’s permit, that he was able to slip in between the closing wooden doors. 

The only patron there was concealed behind curtains drawn around the occupied bed. After all, it was a bit early for the Marauders infamous antics to land anybody in the hospital yet. He tried to manage it as noiselessly and undetectably as possible, slipping between the curtains just as Madam Pomfrey finished bandaging Remus’s wounds with a paper mache of dittany covered cotton balls and gauze. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was relieved to see that the minor cuts and scratches had all been efficiently healed and altogether removed. Remus would’ve appeared seemingly unscathed if it weren’t for the bulging bandages that protruded from beneath his shirt, around his arms and legs. Unconsciously, Sirius grabbed hold of one of Remus’s hands. He didn’t know whether it was more for his own comfort or Remus’s. 

“Whozzair?” Remus managed to mumble, his eyes fluttering open heavily as he noticed the firm grip around his hand. Though he wasn’t badly injured, the exhaustion of the transformation had taken it’s toll. Sirius flung the cloak off himself with a completely unintentional flourish. 

“It’s me, Moony,” Sirius murmured as quietly as he could. Remus’s eyes flew open, and in a rush of panic that took all of his energy, he scrambled into a sitting position, only to stare wide eyed at Sirius, who sheepishly looked back. He got to his feet defeatedly, and with a hung head muttered “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” he stooped to collect the cloak from the floor. James would’ve woken by now and realised his precious heirloom had gone missing. In that way he was sort of jealous of James, with his fancy cloak and enchanted items. The only heirlooms he’d ever been promised was stuffy old cursed jewelry, goblets, gold, and a one way ticket to employment via Death Eaters. As Sirius bent over to gather the cloak, he didn’t realise the bit of fabric on his shirt hiking up to reveal a long, fresh gash that looked as though it’d been mulled over with a series of unsuccessful healing charms. Remus gasped. 

“Sirius, what is that?” he asked nervously. It took a moment for Sirius to lose the puzzled look and realise what Remus was referring to. 

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” he replied a bit too quickly, stuffing his untucked shirt back into his trousers. “James and I were just messing about with some spells and-” 

“-Sirius, where were you last night?” Remus asked, his voice growing cold and serious. It darkened Sirius’s face and that falsely hewn smile slid right off. Of course Remus didn’t believe him. He could smell bullshit from a mile away, and Sirius was constantly full of it. 

“I-With you,” he muttered. And that very response set Remus off. 

“I knew it,” he exclaimed, and he slammed his hand into the mattress in anger. Sirius jumped backwards, as Remus revelled in self inflicted agony mingled with frustration. He ran his fingers through his hair in the way he often did when he was stressed out or disappointed in himself. “Why did you come, Pads, why?” he implored, with a broken looking expression, his eyes doused in regret and self loathing. 

“I had to! You would’ve killed yourself out there if I didn’t!” 

“That doesn’t matter, Sirius! The whole point of being in the Shrieking Shack on a full moon is to keep the students safe! Look what I’ve done. I could’ve killed Snape that night, and I could’ve killed you too if I’d have made the wrong move,” Remus said, running his shaking fingers through his hair. Sirius dropped the cloak and moved towards Remus, taking the shoulder of his pajamas in hand. He tried to angle his face so that he was looking into Remus’s eyes, but it was difficult with Remus’s hands clasped tightly around his own head in horror. 

“It does matter! You matter, Moony. It’s only a scratch and it couldn’t have been helped. You couldn’t have helped it, and it isn’t your fault! You have to stop beating yourself up about these things. Letting Snape in was a stupid and careless on my part, not yours. And if being there for you every damned full moon is daft, then so be it,” he said, shaking Remus lightly by the shoulder. Remus looked up. 

“I’m so sorry, Sirius,” he said with finality, and Sirius’s blood seemed to rush from his limbs to where he felt numb everywhere, except for the little pit of rage that began to boil in his gut. 

“Remus, you’re not listening to what I’m saying!” he exclaimed in frustration. “You matter! And I’ll risk my bloody safety for yours and the other students here if it means you don’t have to go through this alone. Prongs, Wormtail, and I settled on that years ago,” Sirius assured him. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence that permeated the air, only occupied by the look of aghast petrification on Remus’s face. It shocked him when Remus leaned into his chest, his head pressed against his uniform. Then he remembered the exhaustion. Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus, and held him softly against his body. Even though in the past year, Remus had surpassed Sirius in height, it didn’t remedy the vulnerability nestled beneath the calm exterior. 

“I’m so sorry, Sirius,” Remus said, as he extracted himself from Sirius’s embrace. He held his hand to his mouth, as if he were suppressing an onslaught of burgeoning tears. Sirius said nothing, merely watched as he lowered his hand from his face, and sighed audibly, putting away the feelings until they’d emerge a month from now along with the guilt and mergence into silent self loathing. Maybe that’s why Sirius did it. Maybe it was his misguided way of trying to comfort a friend. Perhaps it was for his own selfish reasons, maybe he wanted to. Maybe it was because in that moment Remus was broken, and he couldn’t fix him with anything else so he flew to the last resort. But he’d thought about it for weeks after it happened, and he figured he did it because it felt right, as though it’d been destined to happen, yet never did until that point. Like his whole friendship with Remus had led up to this. Sirius lent forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, stringing his hand behind his neck and through Remus’s tawny hair. And he was pleased when Remus didn’t push him away, and he subconsciously hoped it wasn’t because he was too tired. They only broke apart when Madam Pomfrey pushed back the curtains and dropped the bottle of Dittany, which shattered in an array of silver shards, sizzling potion, and cold, contagious surprise.

“BLACK!” she managed to yell in outrage. “What are you doing here, you-you- you buffoon! OUT!” she ushered him out with a look of surprise akin to the one on Remus’s face. He remained sitting upright on the bed, his limbs locked in place, staring placidly at the rippling curtains, his mind obscured by the scene flashing through again and again.


End file.
